


Whenever Wherever Whatever

by thekinoist (generalllymild)



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, College!AU, FLUFF!!, M/M, Multi, Red String of Fate, Shinwon thinks he's a little crazy, Smut, almost, and it all happens in a cafe, basically OT10 is meant to happen only they don't know it yet, breaking and entering and hackering, destiny!, everyone is together, fate!, soft boys bc im soft like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:24:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalllymild/pseuds/thekinoist
Summary: Shinwon has a little red string messing up his life and a new place to get his vanilla lattes from. Not that these two are connected in any way. Totally, 100% not. The café just happens to be called "Yes strings attached", but that's just a coincidence, right?





	1. Chapter 1

 

_ It’s whatever. Maybe I’m running on so little sleep, 90% on caffeine, 10% stress, that I’ve started to see things. Maybe it’s nothing, just. Whatever. _

 

That’s what Shinwon first thought, when it happened for the first time. Now it’s been nearly a month and he doesn’t think about it anymore, mostly. Has to not think, can’t dwell on it, to save the last pieces of his sanity. Or that’s what he tells himself. Nevermind the fact that when the night falls, when it’s just Shinwon and the darkness, maybe a ballad or two (they always get him emotional, someone should ban them from him), he thinks about it anyway. Swims in the thought of it, drowns in the possibilities. And falls asleep smiling, fond, hazy memories in his head, in his dreams. He won’t be left alone even when his brain logs out. Someone should tell his brain to stop liking it so damn much. To stop liking them so much. To stop missing them every waking moment for no reason at all.

 

_ It’s just a hallucination. Don’t make it into something more. It’s just a red string. Stop getting so attached. _

 

And that’s all it was. A red string, falling from Shinwon to the ground, getting tangled up in on itself on the way, running and getting out of breath trying to catch the waiter with black hair and a little smirk to kill for, or Kino, as it says on his name tag. The red runs circles around his feet, climbing into his pocket and Shinwon waits with bated breath, waits for him to finally notice, to tell Shinwon he’s not crazy after all. It’s been almost a month and the red string always runs to greet Shinwon happily by the door of his favorite café, as if wagging its tail to welcome him home, tying him to Kino, who only smiles at him friendly and takes his order, even though he probably knows it as well as Shinwon does by now (a vanilla latte with cream and a bit of toffee sauce on top). Sometimes Shinwon gets a strawberry or a cherry on top of it, without asking, and it always comes with a smile from Kino that’s almost as sweet as his latte.

 

There are probably at least a dozen cafés near Shinwon’s college, he’s sure. A dozen places he could have chosen to get his lattes from instead of this one. This one just happened to struck out for him, that one cold winter day it opened, shining red and cozy, right on Shinwon’s way to the campus.

 

He doesn’t know if it was the lattes, or the cute-but-fatally-so waiter, or the soft music playing in the background and making him feel as warm as this lattes, but Shinwon kept coming back. And now, well. He knows he should probably cut his losses and run before it gets worse, but Shinwon has always had the worst self-discipline, so. You can’t really blame him for always coming back.

 

Sometimes, when Kino isn’t on shift, but a blond shorter bloke, Hyojong, as his name tag reads, the red string is there all the same, swimming circles  around his feet and tripping on nothing to keep up with both Hyojong and Shinwon, never letting go, not until Shinwon packs his books for the night and steps out into the night air. That’s when the red string loosens around his heart, and lets him go home, to his real home. Someone should tell the string that. That Shinwon has a home already. Only the red string letting him go and Shinwon turning back for a one last glance towards the café, towards Hyojong mixing drinks and sprinkling fairy dust, or whatever he does, on top of them, it all being left behind, Shinwon doesn't feel like its home he's heading to, it feels quite the opposite. Which is completely crazy, of course, he hasn't even exchanged more than a few words with either Hyojong or Kino. Maybe the red string is just making him feel things, silly, crazy, stupid things. Making him feel attached. 

 

_ It’s whatever. It’s just these two cute waiters at a cafe which name just happens to be ‘Yes strings attached’. It’s fine. I’ve got it under control. _

 

Only it wasn’t. Shinwon didn’t got it under control, because that’s when the red string started to get bored, when it started to visit other tables as well. The tall blond, who always looked like he didn’t know what to do with his too-long legs, and the guy who came to sit with him on most afternoons, laughing and talking excitedly to him, making the blond relax and smile at him like he was the sun and the moon combined. The red string tied them together by their pinkies and then, with Shinwon chanting  _ No, no, don’t, let’s not intervene with a couple, let’s just keep it to ourselves,  _ in the background, the red string made its way to Shinwon, curling into his front pocket and falling asleep there. Shinwon just sighed and slumped down further into his chair while Kino raised an amused brow at him before being called back to work.

 

And couple days after, the red string bypassed the blond’s and his boyfriend’s table and went straight for its next victim, a tiny, small guy, who sat in the window table bar stool, legs tangling high above the floor, notebooks, pencils and textbooks laying everywhere around him.  _ Hey now, he’s too tiny and cute, also probably in a fancy as fuck college, not in a average-ish, art-ish one like me, and way too smart for me, let’s not now, _ Shinwon tried, but the string wouldn’t listen. And the day after that, it was the guy whose hair and clothes were always styled nice enough for the White house, a smile nice enough to melt every girl’s heart (and Shinwon’s, because he’s weak like that). And all this while he managed to make it look so effortless. 

 

Plus, Shinwon was pretty sure both of his waiters had tried at least once to give him their numbers, Hyojong probably in a bit more creative way, like slipping a piece of paper into his pocket while nicking his wallet to check his name instead of asking for it like a normal person, or giving him a link to a hip-hop track with lyrics that could either be insulting or flattering. Kino probably going for something more normal, like a few suggestive words and a hand on the thigh, as if by accident, and laughing it off afterwards, leaving the victim craving for more. Shinwon’s almost scared of himself because of how much he knows about not only Hyojong and Kino, the string’s first victims, but of every single person who has come after them, so far counting up to six. And it's been barely a month. Shinwon's fucked.

 

\--

 

It's not cold anymore and Shinwon's lattes have turned into iced ones by now. Shinwon can feel the red string starting to get impatient with him, tugging at his hair or untying his shoelaces, tumbling into his textbooks, them collapsing to the floor and making a mess, Shinwon cursing at it to stop, with no impact at all. The string only seems to be laughing at his misery.

 

Both Kino and Hyojong turn to look at him as books tumble to the floor, half worried, half gleefully giggling at his clumsiness. They give each other a quick glance and rush to Shinwon's table to help him collect his books, Shinwon trying to tell them it's okay, he’s okay, but only managing to knock over his drink as well in the process. The latte splashes onto Kino, and Hyojong cackles at his wet hair while Kino pouts and hits him in the chest while whining  _ "Hyungg~ _ " and Shinwon rushes to kneel next to him and apologize.

 

"I'll make it up to you, I promise, I mean, I don't have a lot of money, so, maybe like a dinner, not a fancy one, but a cheap one, I know this one place, I mean I've heard about it, uhh-" Shinwon mumbles and turns redder by the second, all the while Hyojong still laughs next to them and Kino looks up to Shinwon with his wet fringe and the pout slowly melting from his face. He looks like a wet dog, in the cutest way. Shinwon almost tells this to him but catches himself in time and only swallows, out of breath.

 

"He's asking you out, Kino-ah, didn't you hear! This has been the model's plan all along, to get you wet so you'll go to dinner with him", Hyojong manages to say in between of his cackling and wrestling the Kino who tries to wrap his hand around his mouth to shut him up, or maybe trying to strangle Hyojong to death, who knows, Kino turning red now as well. "Hyung, shut up!", he whines.

 

Shinwon's eyes wider at Hyojong's accusation and he starts to ramble on again, denying everything, saying he's not smart enough for such a plan and that he's not even an actual model, realising he's only digging a hole for himself. Hyojong starts giggling and cooing at him, calling him a cute one, never minding the fact that Shinwon's much taller than him.

 

Hyojong pets Kino's head and pecks him on the cheek, telling him to be careful and to have fun and to call him if Shinwon turns out to be a serial killer or something, and to not forget to come home so he won't have to sleep alone, which. Shinwon has seen the two of them together very rarely, since they're on shift separately most of the time, but he hasn't missed the times they brush hands while passing or give each other looks from the other side of the café. Shinwon hasn't been thinking anything of it, really, until now.

 

Hyojong rushes away, still laughing, leaving Shiwon sitting on the floor with an embarrassed Kino, his books still half on the floor and more questions than answers. Shinwon stands up and offers a hand to Kino, who takes it.

 

"So, uh...you two are together?" Shinwon asks then, can't help it, and regrets immediately after.

 

Kino looks at him surprised and laughs. "Me and Hyojong? No, I mean, uh, no, we aren't together, it's just...we kinda live together? And well, yeah, it’s complicated," Kino explains, twisting his hands together nervously.

 

"Oh." Shinwon says, pretending to understand. The red string follows after Hyojong happily, its other end tied to Kino and Shinwon's shoelace. It seems much more content now. Shinwon thinks its life job is to make Shinwon suffer.

 

\--

 

Morning light looks soft like this, filtering through the half-closed blinds, so unlike the usual july-heat; just kind, sweet, hopeful, full of young blood. Just like Hyojong, who has this special-kinda sunlight creating an art piece on his cheeks, chest; -- who looks young, untroubled, sweet. Not bickering, not biting, not worried, not ready to fight or flight. Kino stops mid-yawn to stare at his face, convincing himself it’s not creepy to stare, -- to look and smile, soft like the ocean of bed linens against his skin. 

 

“Feel free to stop staring at my sleeping face whenever you’re ready, sweetie,” Hyojong rasps with his morning voice, smirking and cracking one eye open, giving Kino a heart attack, probably only the first one for today, knowing Hyojong.

 

“Jesus on a boat, Hyung, you’re gonna get me killed,” Kino puts a hand on his heart, trying to protect it from running away, from falling too deep. As if he didn’t know it’s already too late. But he likes having a heart, either way. Doesn’t fancy the idea of losing it.

 

“I can’t help it, I’m just too charming,” Hyojong says and gets smacked by a pillow.

 

Neither of them used to be morning-kinda people. But lately one of them would wake up at 6.30 AM, an hour before the alarm clock, and they love mornings like that. Kino would open his eyes and check the clock, sigh happily and wrap his arms around Hyojong’s waist again, inhaling and exhaling against his neck, letting his body melt into it, letting his heart match its beating to Hyojong’s. And he didn’t use to be a morning person, but now he thinks he might be a tab bit closer to being one. 

 

When it was Hyojong who woke up first, he would get up, unwillingly, as slowly and steady as possible, and pad into the kitchen. He’d put all of his heart and soul into a breakfast, partly because otherwise they’d have burned toast and orange juice from the closest market. But mainly he does it to see the look in Kino’s eyes once he wakes up and kisses Hyojong’s neck while trying to lift Hyojong up from his feet. But the  _ look _ . Hyojong can only call it love. And he loves it, loves Kino. Loves it when Kino holds him and enjoys the breakfast he made and calls him baby. Adores him.

 

Shinwon turns a side in his sleep, huffing out a soft breath. Unaware of everything except for the pictures running a loop in his brain, seeing only this dream world and nothing else.

 

Hyojong thinks not even the last rays of sun on a November evening shine as bright as Kino. Right now he has a front row seat to the show, barely a centimeter between their faces. Hyojong pokes Kino’s cheek with his finger. It makes Kino pout and Hyojong giggle. Hyojong moves on to Kino’s ear, playing with it as he does whenever he’s bored. 

 

"Hyung~~ it tickles!" Kino laughs, rolling around and ending up half on top of Hyojong.

 

“You like it,” Hyojong grins at him, “kid,” he adds, for good measure. 

 

“That’s creepy, stop calling me a kid when we’re fucking,” Kino swats his chest.

 

“Good for you to say, Mr. stares-when-I-sleep, not to mention that you like it when I--” Hyojong chokes on his next words when he feels sharp pain on the side of his throat, Kino’s teeth in the process of making a very, very visible mark there. Hyojong moans and grabs Kino’s hair, but he never pulls him away. He will get so many weird looks tomorrow at work. Whatever. He likes it, anyway.

 

Shinwon draws in a sharp breath and opens his eyes wide, heart beating too fast again. After a few seconds of trying to get his breathing normal, he realizes his alarm clock is still ringing. Shinwon hits it, twice for waking him up too early. He has to check no one really is beside him, as it all felt a bit too real. 

 

Yep, he’s still alone. He sighs, half relieved, half disappointed, and lets his head fall back onto his pillow. He decides not to dwell on the dream too much, or the fact that he found the sight of the two of them together a bit too hot and cute at the same time. Life has apparently decided to make it a hard one for Shinwon. 

 

\--

 

It’s project season and Shinwon’s busy. That’s his excuse to himself for not going to the café ever since  _ the accident  _ with the books and the falling. All he has been doing instead of school work is staring at his phone, at Kino’s number, which he typed there before letting Shinwon walk home alone. Shinwon stares at it with a blush and faintly recalls something about a dinner date. All Shinwon has been doing is closing his eyes and hearing Hyojong’s laugh and seeing Kino’s stupidly cute pout. All he has been doing is wondering why them, why the two waiters, the couple and the probably-smart-as-hell-college students. Why him. He tries to do work and he tries to relax, but can’t quite drown out the feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The red string is tugging at his heart and he hates it for it. 

 

One day, after being scolded by both the teacher and his project comrates for being lazy and unnecessarily tall and still not getting shit done, Shinwon just can’t ignore it anymore, can’t walk past the café’s windows and not turn his head only to meet eyes with Hyojong, whose eyes narrow instantly upon seeing him, which. Is a little scary. For a tiny guy. So Shinwon cowards and walks in.

 

“Call him, moron”, Hyojong greets him by the door. When Shinwon doesn’t answer straight away, he opts for threatening Shinwon for his life, “I won’t give you your ice latte with disgustingly much sugar before you do”. Hyojong leads him to his usual table and pushes him to sit on the chair by his shoulders, which. Is also a little scary, from a tiny guy. Or just impressing. Or hot.

 

So Shinwon calls. And calls. And hits voicemail like a brick wall. So he stops calling and apparently looks so miserable Hyojong comes to pet his head and gives him a discount for his latte. Shinwon decides he isn’t scary after all. Just tiny. And hot.

 

He tells Hyojong that (just the being tiny part, of course) and gets smacked on the arm. “That’s just cause you’re so unnaturally tall! Everyone looks tiny next to you!” And Shinwon already feels a little better for Kino’s apparent rejection. A little.

 

\--

 

It’s weekend and Shinwon doesn’t usually go to the café on free days, but he’s weak and what else is new. So Shinwon finds himself walking there, for no other reason than the tugging feeling all over him, in his legs and in his breath, making it difficult to inhale and exhale with it yelling at him to  _ go _ . Stupid red string. 

 

As soon as he steps in, he feels overwhelmed, more so than usually. He’s met with music coming from a tape and someone singing, very live, very real. He has always been a little afraid of big masses of water, but now. He wants to drown, for the voice to cover him like a blanket and sing him to sleep, for eternity. Shinwon fights the urge to close his eyes to focus better on just the song, and lifts his eyes to see the tiny college guy there, on the makeshift stage, singing like an angel and hitting all the high notes and Shinwon’s poor heart like a punching bag. 

 

Shinwon awakes from his dreamy state when the song ends and everyone starts clapping and whistling, the tiny one on stage bowing and blushing furiously. The red string is circling happily around the guy’s feet and every once in a while coming for Shinwon’s heart and making Shinwon afraid it’ll beat right out of his chest. And every once in a while, the string runs to one of the corner tables, where the greek-god-guy sits, leaning his chin on his hand with a stupidly fond look on his face, unbothered by the red string, even when it tries its best to get him to notice its presence. 

 

Shinwon shakes his head at him and sighs.  _ I guess I gotta take matters to my own hands, then.  _ And in the middle of the storm of clapping, he walks to the greek-god-guy and sits opposite him. Even if it means he won’t see the tiny god-like-voice still on stage. Compromises.

 

“Hi.” Shinwon starts, when the guy still hasn’t even noticed him sitting there. 

 

The guy almost knocks his glass over, surprised to hear someone so close, talking to  _ him.  _ Shinwon reaches to catch the glass and proceeds to accidentally wrap his hand over the guy’s, both holding the glass. Seconds pass and the spell is broken, the guy starting to laugh and Shinwon forcing his hand to let go and laugh with him. 

 

“Hi. I’m Hongseok,” the guy introduces himself. 

 

“And I’m Shinwon but that’s not what’s important here, what’s important is that tiny guy up there,” Shinwon points at the stage, smiling mischievously, “and your stupid, fond smile and the heart eyes you have for him, so. Just go, already.” 

 

Hongseok stares at him with wide eyes, blinking slowly at his words, trying to get a word out with poor success. Shinwon giggles at him; Hongseok looks cute when he’s confused instead of his usual confident-look. Plus, he looks even better up close. How unfair. 

 

Finally, after Hongseok’s eyes switching between the singer and Shinwon, he nods and stands up without a word, his confidence coming back to him. Hongseok trips on the closest chair and Shinwon’s suddenly worried he’ll just make a fool of himself. 

 

\--

 

Shinwon had never liked big masses of water, felt like he’d only get lost and under and never surface again, dark and cold. And now, that’s all Shinwon feels, wants, drowning, except it’s light and warm instead of darkness. 

 

Shinwon had had a long day of lectures and people, talking about the weather or about something Shinwon apparently should know about, or the future, the climate change, whatever, Shinwon just wanted them to stop talking, to let him go home. And here he is now. Crawled right into the arms of his sea, tides and waves, warm. Snuggling his face into the crook of his neck, darker skin soft under his lips, black hair tickling his face. Shinwon inhales and exhales and feels like everything is alright in the world. 

 

His strong arms squeeze Shinwon closer against his chest and Shinwon hears him chuckle against his hair, cooing and calling him a baby but Shinwon doesn’t even care, content to just be and live and breathe in the sea breeze and let someone hold him and tell him there’s a tomorrow like this, a tomorrow where’s it’s quiet except for the waves crashing against rocks, neverending. He combs his fingers through Shinwon’s hair and makes soft patterns against his scalp and Shinwon feels his eyes get heavier.

 

“Hyung~~! Yuto-ah! We’re home!” Shinwon startles at Kino’s voice coming from the front door, chirpy as ever. He turns his head just enough to see Kino and another guy he can’t quite name even though he feels like he should, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime. Shinwon decides not to dwell on it as a fond smile creeps on his face upon seeing the two of them, swinging their hands between them. 

 

“We bring food!” The tall one calls before spotting the cuddling pair on the sofa and dropping everything to run to them and jump on the sofa, surprisingly lightly, and worming his way between their limbs. He sighs happily against Shinwon’s chest, his other hand squeezing the other guy’s bicep, the other playing with the hairs on Shinwon’s neck. It feels familiar and Shinwon doesn’t question it. Any if it.

 

Kino sighs at the groceries on the floor and eyes at the three of them wishingly before sighing again and taking the groceries to the kitchen, silently cursing “the giant baby”. Five minutes later he, too, skips over to the sofa and curls against the strong one’s side, kissing him softly and giggling into the kiss. The tall baby whines against Shinwon when no one is giving him attention and the guy giggles at him, giving him a kiss as well. Shinwon is in the middle of all this, smiling at them, at what is his. Even if he can’t quite give names to their faces or tell you how he ended up here, how he ended up with them, he’s sure they’re his and he’s theirs, no questions asked. It feels right. He feels warm and then ever warmer when Kino leans over all the heads and limbs to press a kiss against his lips. 

 

“Had a good day today, hyung?” Kino murmurs against his mouth. Shinwon just hums so he wouldn’t need to surface, ever again. And if his day hasn’t been so good so far, well, now it was so no one needs to know.

 

Shinwon’s alarm clock startles him awake and Kino’s mouth disappears, the soft fingers in his hair turn into thin air, the weight against his chest is no longer there. Shinwon tries to rub his eyes and get rid of the empty feeling as well. He doesn’t quite succeed. All that’s left is the red string tugging at his too-fast-beating heart. 

 

\--

 

The red string is becoming more and more impatient with Shinwon nowadays. It won’t just sit still or wonder around quietly like before, now it tugs at Shinwon’s sleeve or the loops of his jeans, more so in moments like this, when Shinwon steps into the café and sees the tiny college-singer guy (Jinho, Hongseok texted him once after The Night) and Hongseok sitting around the same small table, leaning over the table to get closer, both giggling at each other with sparkling eyes. It’s cute, so cute, but the red string won’t let him enjoy the scene, instead pulling and tugging until Shinwon doesn’t know if the slight uneasy feeling of something, maybe jealousy, maybe hunger, was there before or if it’s because of the red string being stupid. Shinwon swallows and turns his head away, an odd, blue feeling coming over him when he can’t just go sit with them. He once again chooses to ignore it.

 

Not much after getting his usual latte from the ever smiling Kino, whose lips Shinwon can almost still feel against his, two boys walk in, chatting loudly. Shinwon freezes, eyes stuck on them, his heart beating so irregularly he might as well collapse on the floor at any moment. And he doesn’t know why, doesn’t realize why it feels like the floor under him is rocking him gently, like waves, like a sea where you wish to drown. Until Kino runs to them, into their arms, grinning happily while he’s being swallowed by the two of them. And that’s when it hits him. The dream, it all coming back to Shinwon, the soft touches and the grocery bags, the fingers in his hair, the welcome home-kisses, it all. And with this realization he watches in slight horror as the red string runs over to them, ties them together like a birthday present. 

 

With slight horror Shinwon watches as the other one leans in to kiss Kino’s cheek. “Ah, Yuto-ah, I’m so happy you’re here. Missed you,” Kino sighs, leaning his head on the guy’s, Yuto’s, shoulder. 

 

The tallest one pouts and tugs on Kino’s hair gently, reminding them he’s there too. Kino laughs at him, “And you too, Wooseok-ah. Still love you, don’t worry, I’m not gonna run off with Yuto,” Kino giggles and kisses Wooseok right there, short but sweet, and Wooseok’s cheeks turn pink. The tall blond and his boyfriend, who still visit the café regularly, look at the three of them and smile at them knowingly, fingers linking over the table, the red string tied among their fingers. Shinwon feels his chest burn. Shinwon remembers his dream, the faces who now have names, who now feel real, too real, and he remembers promising Kino to take him out for a dinner, and his heart feels way too unstable, confused and burning. 

 

\--

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah thank you so much to anyone who commented and cheered for me on the last chapter !! Here's more of the red string being an asshole but in a cute way and hand holding and other...questionable content...like a tiny steamy scene...sorry in advance bye!

 

 

“What the fuck.”

 

It was 6 AM and Shinwon woke up to the red string poking its head (tail?) from his open bedroom window. Shinwon held a brief staring competition with it, the most fierce look on his face he could muster at ass-o’clock. The string won. Shinwon slumped back onto his bed and closed his eyes, hoping it’ll be gone when he’d open them again.

 

It has been a full week since Shinwon’s been to the café. A week of supermarket lattes, a week of restless nights, five days of swatting the red string following him everywhere and not letting him sleep or concentrate on anything, whining at him to give up, to pay attention to it. And two days since the string had hung its head (tail?) down low, its bright color a bit faded, like it had been in the washing machine by accident. Two days since the string had disappeared from Shinwon’s life and all was well again.

 

Only it hadn’t been. Even without the string, Shinwon’s heart wouldn’t stay still, mind wouldn’t stop playing him a fucking picture show of _their_ faces, pictures of real life or ones it created by itself. And now, staring at the seemingly cheery red string in his bedroom, he almost wanted to welcome it home. Or hit it in the head (tail?).

 

“What the actual fuck.”

 

Shinwon had apparently started to also hallucinate, as a very real looking Kino poked his head from Shinwon’s bedroom window as well. A very cute looking Kino, he might add, although he did look like he’d stayed up all night, judging from the bags under his eyes.

 

“Hi, Ko Shinwon. Long time no see,” Kino smiled at him, clearly a bit embarrassed, staring at Shinwon’s naked chest.

 

“I live on the third floor,” Shinwon mumbled, squinting his eyes at Kino. “Why is my imagination making this imaginary Kino climb up three floors at six AM?” He wondered out loud, twisting his head to the side and eyeing Kino suspiciously.

 

“I, uhh…” Kino laughed nervously.

 

“You’re real, aren’t you.”

 

“Well, yeah. Do you want to touch me to confirm?” Kino smirked at him. The red string smirked beside him. A real partner in crime. “You little shit,” Shinwon mumbled at it while trying to stare it down again.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

All this time Shinwon had stayed uncharastically calm, but it was slowly coming clear to him that a very real, very much alive Kino was hanging from his window, three floors up from the ground and Shinwon was naked in bed and calling him a little shit.

 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I was just-- How did you know where I live?” Shinwon rambled while gathering his bed sheets around his body, cheeks turning redder, questions crisscrossing across his mind.

 

“Ah, well, Hyojong’s pretty good with his hands, you know, haha,” Kino stuttered and Shinwon couldn’t do much else but stare at him with a blank look, the red string now tied around Shinwon’s waist, resting its head (tail?) on Shinwon’s shoulder, like the devil himself.

 

“We, uh, I was just worried you were dead in a ditch since you haven’t been to the café in a while so I came here to check up on you, sorry about, uh, this,” Kino bit his lip and turned his head to stare at the floor. Shinwon couldn’t quite understand why his words made his heart feels suddenly so alive, like it was a living thing inside him with a will of its own.

 

“It’s okay. Come on, I’ll make you breakfast. And put on some clothes, maybe.”

 

“Oh, no need, don’t bother just for me,” Kino winks at him, Shinwon rolling his eyes.

 

\--

 

That’s how Kang Kino ended up climbing in through Ko Shinwon’s window at sunrise and sitting in Shinwon’s tiny kitchen, scrambled eggs and some kind of purple juice (because “who would drink orange or apple juice or something equally boring anyway”) in front of him, looking at Shinwon from under his eyelashes, giggling at the jokes he makes, Shinwon beaming at him in his shorts and fluffy socks, feeling light eminiate from Kino’s smile, so, so bright and the oceans all around the world are shining with this light, the light inside him, a light Kino lit there.

 

Shinwon has always been a bit of a romantic. This isn’t doing anything good to his too big, poor heart.  The red string pats him on the shoulder emphatically. Shinwon rejects all thoughts of “what about your boyfriend Hyojong?” or “where’s the others?”, or sentences like “I regularly dream about you, literally” or “sorry I never called to take you out on that dinner date”.

 

\--

 

Hui can’t count the times he has almost tripped and fell because of the stupid little red string tied to his ankles, his pinky, his heart and mind. He can’t count the times people in the campus have given him weird looks as he yells at seemingly nothing to stop messing about and let him live. He can’t count the times the red string has almost won, has almost gotten him to his feet, ready to follow it anywhere, ready to agree to all of its terms and sign all the papers. Hui can’t tell if the string is just that charming, like a siren luring him in, or if its a manipulative bastard, who’s now blackmailing him. He figures he has plenty of time to find out, since it’s been barely a day and the red string is showing no signs of giving up.

 

Hui trips on the red string for what seems like the hundredth and fourth time that day and he’s so, so tired of holding on to the pieces of himself, of trying not to let go of himself. “Okay, I get it. I give up!” Hui yells at the red string and a couple walking past switches to the other side of the road, away from him. “Just take me,” Hui sighs dramatically and lets go of his pretences, holds his hand out for the red string to take and lead him where it wants.

 

The string skips to the exact opposite direction happily, way too smug to be an non-living thing. Hui hates it. Hui promises to practice his self-discipline from tomorrow onwards.

 

Hui stops in his tracks as soon as he sets a foot in the smallish café. The door closes behind him with a thud and no air flows in no more. Hui feels like he’s already suffocating.

 

But that’s not what made him stop. It was the music playing quietly from the speakers. It’s his song. One of the latest ones. At first Hui feels his chest glow with proudness, telling himself he knew it was only a matter of time until people recognized his unreal talents for producing. Hui locks eyes with the bartender, a blond, hip-looking guy, and tidal waves come crashing into his rib cage, a flood that breaks everything in its wake, cold, cold water freezing his muscles from inside out. The bartender has a red string tied around his right middle finger. Hui follows the line with his eyes and ends up staring at his own left wrist, where it has tied itself into a ribbon-kinda shape there. The floor sways under Hui’s feet.

 

“What would you like, I mean other than myself?” The bartender asks him, a bit amused, and Hui startles at how close he is. The string had pulled Hui here, close enough to touch, without Hui’s consent, which really isn’t news to him at this point. He never should have agreed.

 

“I--,” Hui’s voice comes out all wrong, unfamiliar. For a moment Hui thinks the red string has now possessed him completely, but he doesn’t have the time to dwell on that thought as it dawns on him; “I never published this song. I only finished it late last night, there’s no way it’s here, how--,” Hui opens and closes his mouth, brain working on overload, his mind full of cotton, the only thing keeping him still on his feet being Hyojong’s eyes never leaving his, grounding in an oddly peaceful way. Hui suddenly feels like he’s seen this guy before, a thousand times over, like he has touched his pale skin and held his warm hand, known him from inside out before, maybe in another universe or just yesterday.

 

Hyojong stills at that, his grin falling a little. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, about that...listen, Hui, it was an accident, I mean kinda, uhh, I mean I did hack your computer fully in my right senses and all, but...” Hyojong babbles on, laughing nervously and scanning the room for the perfect route for his escape. “I really do love your work, and no one ever pays them the attention they deserve, so I took the liberty to --”.

 

Hui hears his name and forgets he never told this guy who he was, he hears Hyojong admitting to committing a crime, against him, stealing from him, in theory, --he hears Hyojong praise him like no one ever has but Hui has always wanted to, and it’s all so much, he doesn’t know what to think anymore, hasn’t known ever since the red string came around. The water in his ribcage has gotten warmer now, sloshing around the edges and making everything swing with it.

 

“Ah, hi, Hui-nim! I’ve heard so much about you, Hyojong’s kinda obsessed--” Hyojong wraps his hand over the black haired guy’s mouth who has just walked over, panicked. Hui stares at him, jaw on the tiled black-and-white floor, limbs threatening to fail him, and his body feels so, so heavy, carrying an entire ocean inside his heart.

 

\--

 

Shinwon has been woken up by the red string regularly, half an hour before his alarm clock, for no apparent reason, it tickling his face and running into walls with a thump, making Shinwon worry about it breaking something. One day the string even tried to unlock his iphone. Shinwon is kinda terrified. He has tried locking it outside for the night, but it always finds a way of getting back in.

 

Today, too, the red string skips ahead of him, heading straight to the café after Shinwon’s classes. Today, too, Kino’s grin threatens to break his face as he greets Shinwon happily. Today, too, Shinwon watches as Kino slides and twirls around the tables, chatting and laughing and winking at his customers.

 

Kino is an affectionate person. He’s a hands-on kinda person, loves skinship more than the sun itself, loses himself into it so easily, melting any boundaries of personal space. So for him, it’s only natural to lay his palm on the Changgu’s thigh, the one with kind words and a kinder smile, only natural to slip his fingers into the tall blond’s, Yanan’s, hair, the one who blushes every time Kino so much as looks at him; to let his fingers tangle with his soft hair, in awe of how it feels beneath his fingertips. To Kino it’s an everyday kind of thing to lay his palm onto Hongseok’s thigh, onto his bicep when Hongseok _dares_ to wear a tanktop, _I mean, it’s only for science,_ Kino thinks, _as I’m just discussing about work-out tips, not that I’m all that keen on working out, but Yuto, he is, and it’s only for him I’m here, right, to tell these tips I’m totally listening to right now, paying so much attention to, and why has he stopped talking, he didn’t ask me anything did he? I’m screwed._

 

For Kino, it’s only natural to pet Jinho on the head, cooing over how well he’s doing in his studies after hearing him talk about it, over how well he sings after hearing Jinho sing in the open mic night, trying to kindly force him to sing for them, for him, again, over and over again, to sing Kino to sleep for the rest of his life.

 

Because although they’re just customers at his workplace, Kino feels like he knows them. He sees them almost daily, chats about more or less mundane things and by now, he doesn’t see them as just customers anymore. Maybe never has.

 

For Shinwon, it’s only natural to feel his little heart pound a bit harder, his blood running a bit hotter as he watches Kino do all this. It’s only natural he flirts to Kino a bit more than he otherwise would whenever he gets him close, pretends to knock their knees, elbows together by accident. Pretends the red string isn’t over the moon every time it sees Kino approach their table by the window.

 

\--

 

“I love seeing you like this,” Hongseok’s hot breath makes every hair on Yanan’s neck stand out, makes him tilt his head farther backwards on the pillow, exposing his neck to him, waiting for Hongseok to finally, finally touch him, mark his neck and collarbones, “All mine, laid out waiting for me to tell you what do to, waiting for my command--” Hongseok gasps out a puff of air onto Yanan’s neck and he’s flying, falling onto his back, pushed there by Hyojong, and Hongseok’s head hits the sheets, fringe everywhere, his eyes wide and mouth open, shocked by the surprise attack.

 

“What do you mean ‘yours’? Acting all tough, acting like you’re the boss here, like your word is the law, like everyone else should bow down and lick your dirty shoes,” Hyojong tuts at him and shakes his head, pursing his lips, looking like a disappointed teacher. “Should tie you up and sit you in the corner, forced to watch but not be able to touch, how’s about that?”

 

Hongseok moans and lifts his hands above his head, for Hyojong, for him to tie them like he promised, and Hyojong smirks down at him, wrapping a hand around Hongseok’s wrists and squeezing them together, tight so he wouldn’t even think about trying to escape, ever. “Good boy,” Hyojong whispers to him and it earns him another moan from Hongseok.

 

Yanan now for the first time hears the slow beats of music playing from the other side of the room, before his ears were reserved for other things, sweet lullabies and promises that made his blood run away from him. Yanan lifts his head from the bed and there’s Kino meeting his eyes like he had been watching him this whole time and the dark look in his eyes makes Yanan gulp.

 

Yanan isn’t sure if Kino is moving to the beat or if the beat is making up the rhythm to match Kino’s hips. And now Yanan realizes what he meant when Kino said he’s a dancer. Kino grabs onto Changgu’s thighs, who’s sitting on a chair behind him, and then he’s twirling down like a spiral, knees and palms on the carpet and just when Chaggu reaches out to touch, he’s up and in Chaggu’s lap, holding his hands and forcing them down by his side again, leaving him unsatisfied and yearning.

 

Changgu’s eyes close on their own accord, the warmth of having a lapful of Kino making his cheeks burn hot, and it feels like Kino’s trying to press him all the way to hell every time the beat hits and his hips come down against his crotch. Changgu leans forward to nip at Kino’s neck with his teeth, bite at his collarbone hard enough to make Kino gasp and bury his hands into Changgu’s hair, pulling but not actually wanting him to stop, only encouraging him to go on, further, to bite harder, he can handle it, to put his hand on his throat, right where there’s a little heart on his pretty little black collar, to lay his hand there and squeeze, make it hard for the air to flow, make Kino’s head spin, bring the universe and the clouds just a little closer to him, and then, let go, let him collapse against Changgu’s chest, panting and with eyes blacker than ever.

 

Yanan turns his head to the side when he hears Hongseok moan from next to him on the bed, hands now tied tight with a bound on the headboard, Hyojong between his legs, holding Hongseok down by his hips, mouth full of him, Hongseok’s every muscle jumping under him.

 

“A lot more quiet now, aren’t you,” Hyojong smirks as he comes up for air and wipes his chin with the back of his hand, raking his fingernails down Hongseok’s chest, “So obedient.”

 

Hongseok whines high in his throat at his words, squirming on the bed and trying to lift his hips, to rut against Hyojong, to get his mouth back on him, anything. Hyojong makes a disappointed sound down at him, shaking his head slightly, “Remember what I told you. Stay still, don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do. Or I’ll have to punish you, you know that.”

 

That only makes Hongseok trash around the bed more, the bound digging into the skin of his wrists, moans tripping out and onto the bed. Yanan feels the blood in his veins run hotter at the sight in front of him.

 

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” Hyojong says, letting completely go of Hongseok. “On your knees. Now,” Hyojong orders. Hongseok complies, turning around as fast as his bound wrists let him. He closes his eyes and waits, and just like he knew it would, Hyojong’s palm comes down onto his ass cheek, stinging and almost making him collapse back onto the bed, unable to stay quiet. Hyojong doesn’t give him time to recover, hitting him twice more. On the fourth Hongseok’s thighs feel like jelly and by the fifth he cries out, tears on the corners of his eyes, and collapses on the bed, pleasure washing over him.

 

Yanan feels hands on his thighs and watches as Kino crawls over him. “Hyung~”, he whines, a pleading look on his face, “Touch me, please.” And Yanan does, gives him what he wants and more, showering him with tiny kisses and a few bites here and there, enjoying every sound he gets out of Kino’s mouth. Yanan pets his slightly damp hair as he eventually falls onto Yanan’s chest, out of breath. “Good boy,” he tells him.

 

Shinwon startles awake, sweat on his forehead and quilt in his veins. He swears at the red string, blaming it for all and everything, but he really doesn’t know if he can even blame it for all of it anymore.

 

\--

 

Somehow, Hui finds himself being led into the same café, the one with the bright red neon sign and tiled floor, chillhop playing from the speakers whenever they aren’t playing Hui’s songs, apparently. The red string practically runs into the kitchen as soon as the door opens to let them in and Hui can feel it trying to pull him with him, yelling at him excitedly like a toddler in a candy shop. Hui keeps his ground and chooses the closest table by the door for himself.

 

Soon the red string returns, holding Hyojong’s hand, dragging him to the biggest table with five people already sitting around it, the black haired one beckoning Hyojong to take a seat with the biggest grin on his face. Hui recognizes him from last time, but somehow he feels like it wasn’t just a few days ago he saw him for the first time, like it’s been a thousand years already.

 

He lets his eyes travel from a face to another, blondes and brunettes, some short and some tall, and he feels like he should be there, with them. Like he belongs there, in the middle of it all, a chaos that doesn’t need anyone to try and solve it, happy to just be, bold and alive. That’s how it’s supposed to be like. With Hui lighting the candles still on the table, igniting it all into life. The air suddenly gets a bit chillier and Hui shivers.

 

Hui looks as the six of them, all pretty and beautiful, chat and laugh and hold hands, some under the table, some over it, some casual about it, some like they’re hanging onto dear life, and Hui wonders why is he here. Sitting alone, with no coffee or muffin, no book or magazine, nothing to check from his phone, no one to text to. He slowly stands up, and when he doesn’t feel anything, even the red string, holding him back, he heads for the door, chest heavy and empty at the same time.

 

Hand on the cold metal of the door handle, a warm hand lands on his shoulder. “Stay,” it says.

 

The hand slides lower to tentatively grab Hui’s hand, fitting there just right. Hui squeezes the fingers between his, turning around to nod, a smile slowly rising and lighting up his features, spearing like wildfire and Hyojong smiles back at him, the look in his eyes matching Hui’s. Hui searches for the red string, expecting it to be somewhere near, pulling the strings like a puppet master, but it’s still at the table with the rest of them, curling between bodies and glasses, tasting lemonade and sipping red wine, looking around the table and beaming, not even sparing a glance at Hui and Hyojong. Hui feels something like contentment settle into his chest.

 

Hyojong doesn’t let go of Hui’s hand until they reach the table, Hyojong introducing Hui to them and telling him everyone’s names, like Hui wouldn’t already know them. Hui decides not to question anything, not Hyojong stealing his songs or seemingly knowing an awful lot about him, not the fact that he can’t really recall ever meeting these people before.

 

Someone lays a red velvet muffin and an americano in front of him, someone tells him about a gig coming up the next friday, speaking with his hands and face more than words, someone quietly offers him a bite from his cake, someone almost falls onto his lap while laughing too hard, someone sniffs his hair and wonders out loud what kinda shampoo does he use to smell so good, and Hui can’t do anything but grin and giggle, watching as Hyojong subtly lays an arm around Kino, Hongseok casually kissing Yanan on the cheek and Changgu as well straight after, probably because no one can bear his pouting for too long, Jinho playing with the fingers on Hui’s another hand, Hyojong having stolen the other one for himself, his rings pressing into Hui’s skin from time to time, grounding.

 

After a while two more pretty faces appear, Kino running to greet them, the stronger one holding him up as he jumps at him, the other one trying to tickle Kino to death. Kino introduces Yuto and Wooseok to the crowd, Hongseok dragging two more chairs for them, everyone opening their arms for them, chatting and laughing and soon enough holding hands as easily and naturally as anything, water flowing on a spring day after all the ice has melted and the sun is out. Soon enough Hyojong is sitting on Wooseok’s lap, Wooseok feeding him grapes, soon enough Yanan has pressed his side against Yuto’s, as close as possible, leaning his head onto Yuto’s shoulder, them complaining to each other about the difficulties of korean grammar. And the red string, asleep in the middle of it all, curled into a spiral like a snake onto the table, in between all the forks and plates, snoring lightly.

 

 _This_ , Hui thinks, _the chaos that needs no rules, the chaos that lives well on its own, shines in the middle of the dark ocean. This._

 

\--

 

The red string has left Shinwon alone more and more lately. It feels weird, unfamiliar to be by himself amongst the endless, eerie quietness. Shinwon almost misses the red string.

 

Maybe it’s that missing that gets Shinwon to walk into the café that evening, or maybe he needs his daily Kino fix, or maybe he hopes to bump into Hyojong, or maybe even Yuto and Wooseok, or one of the others, not because of his dreams or anything, just to you know. Check that they aren’t dead in a ditch. Not that Shinwon really cares, but. He’s pretty used to seeing their faces by now and wouldn’t it just be such a shame if they wouldn’t be there, for him, anymore?

 

Shinwon walks in and the air feels suffocating, too warm and stuffy, the lights too dim and the candles too bright. Shinwon walks in and there’s two tables pulled together in the middle, still too small for all the people sitting around it, no other customers around, just their chatter and laughter creating a bubble that Shinwon can almost touch with his fingertip, a bubble that Shinwon can only look into, a doll house he’s too big for, an emergency exit too well made to break out of, a glass window too soundproof to make his voice heard on the other side. Shinwon feels like he knows them, feels them in his bones, but they won’t even lift their eyes to see him there, won’t call his name and ask him to stay. Won’t even notice him. Won’t know him in their dreamless sleep.

 

Shinwon doesn’t let the door close behind him, heading out the same way he came from before anyone can catch his eyes. He walks back into the dark streets, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat.

 

Passing the window, Shinwon can’t help but lift his head, waiting, hoping. And he meets someone’s eyes, yes, but no one he expected to see, no one he knows, no one he has seen. Someone new. Wearing an expression Shinwon can’t quite read, staring right into Shinwon’s soul, like he does know him even when Shinwon doesn’t. Shinwon stares into Hui’s eyes, the oceans and rivers there, the waves and still waters, the warm and the cold, the crashes and the floods, the wildfires.

 

The red string climbs onto Hui’s shoulder, hanging onto his t-shirt and the other side of Shinwon’s mouth lifts up. He laughs softly by himself and turns his eyes to the street, continuing his way back home, now much lighter than before.

 

Hui stares at Shinwon’s retreating back long after he goes, only startling back into reality when Wooseok squeezes his thigh, asking him if he’s okay, worry clear in his eyes.

 

“Yeah. I am. Very, very okay.”

 

\--

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

“Very, very okay,” Hui answers Wooseok and pats his thigh half heartedly, eyes still glued to the dark streets outside, searching for his black coat, not finding it anymore. Too far gone. Hui feels like he should be running after him. He glances at the red string, entertaining itself by playing with the holes on Yuto’s jeans, and no, it’s not that  _ thing _ that’s making him feel like this, it’s just. Just Hui, he and his beating heart, named after all the deepest oceans.

 

“Shinwon”, Hui suddenly remembers, awaken to the reality, or the past, or some other universe, whatever, --there’s has been a time Hui has known Shinwon’s name. And all of these other people around him too, he has known them, their names and faces and touches still lingering around the edges of his memory, almost lost, should be too far to get back by now, but still hanging on, hoping, wishing he’ll come back to them. And he did. He’s here now.

 

And Shinwon, who the red string recognized through the window, who Hui remembers, knows. Shinwon, who’s out there with his black coat, walking the dark streets. Hui’s head feels dizzy.

 

“What? You know Shinwon?” Hyojong lifts his eyes to him, shock and surprise on his face. At the mention of his name, Kino looks up as well, eyes shifting between Hui and Hyojong.

 

“Ah, the legendary Shinwon, the guy who’s head over heels our Kino. Should we be jealous?” Yuto cocks an eyebrow at Kino, grinning playfully. Kino blushes and buries his head into Yuto’s chest. Yuto laughs and pats him on the head. Multiple ‘aww’s are heard around the table. Everyone’s whipped for Kino and no one’s surprised.

 

“I think I do,” Hui says, hesitant, but more and more sure with every syllable, a tiny smile rising from somewhere deep inside of him, a smile a million years old, rising back to the books of the living. 

 

\--

 

“What are your feeling on cakes?” 

 

Kino turns his head on Shinwon’s lap to look at him in the eyes. Kino looks so content, with Shinwon’s fingers making patterns against his scalp. Shinwon’s worried he’ll start purring and turn into a cat for good. And nothing wrong with that, really, if Shinwon wasn’t scared to death of every animal there is. Shame, really. Kino would make a cute kitten. Or a puppy.

 

“I like the chocolate ones. Do you know why?” Shinwon answers, a yawn escaping. It’s probably way too late already, but he doesn’t care. Not with Kino on his lap.

 

Kino rolls his eyes at him, “Because they remind you of my gorgeous, chocolatey brown eyes,” he says in a mockery-Shinwon accent.

 

Shinwon grins at him, pleased, “I’ve taught you well.” He gives Kino a kiss on his forehead and Kino scrunches his nose.

 

“I should make us an anniversary cake. It’s been already what, 200-something days, isn’t that worth a cake?” Kino starts again, not letting Shinwon distract him from his original plan.

 

“Okay, but be sure to put 200-something candles on it! Or 200 times 10, since there’s 10 of us.” 

 

“252.” Shinwon hears someone add and for a split second, a horrifying second, his brain doesn’t recognize the voice. But Hui walks over, sleep in his eyes, nearly tripping on Shinwon’s legs on the way the the couch and taking Shinwon’s hand in his. And Shinwon remembers. Everything. 

 

“It’s been 252 days,” Hui says, looking like he might nod off any moment, head leaning on Shinwon’s shoulder. Shinwon’s heart feels so warm, so full. It’s awful.

 

Kino has terribly much energy considering the late hour. He hops onto his feet and soon Shinwon hears pans and spoons clicking in the kitchen. The noise attracts Hongseok into the kitchen as well, two of their master chefs on it once again. Shinwon remembers all the times they’ve competed on who makes better dishes, whose food gets more votes amongst them. Usually people vote for Kino, sometimes only because no one can take his puppy eyes and Hongseok gets too cocky whenever he wins. Shinwon thinks the crown of cookery belongs to Hongseok anyway, don’t tell Kino. 

 

Hongseok looks like he had been already sleeping and had woken up just for this. His hair is a mess, so fluffy you could mistake it for a cloud, and it’s flying all over the place. Shinwon stiffles his giggles behind his hand.

 

“Don’t give hyung the credit for knowing how long it’s been. I told him. Hui can’t even remember my birthday,” Hongseok mumbles, eyes drooping, but not sleepy enough not to tease Hui whenever possible. Hui gives him a disapproving look, silently sending him a  _ thanks, love _ . 

 

“Plus,” Hongseok continues, a bit more awake already, “it’s 253,” he says after checking his wrist for a clock that he doesn’t even have on right now. 

 

“Whatever, just feed me cake,” Shinwon whines and curls closer to Yanan, who had fallen asleep on the sofa while they were watching a movie earlier. Again. 

 

Yanan mumbles something in his sleep and by instinct puts his arms around Shinwon. Shinwon lazily watches as Kino and Hongseok make a mess of the kitchen and playfully wrestle each other every once in a while, whenever they aren’t kissing. They’re the biggest for kisses and when they got to it, it’s neverending. It’s almost funny. Hui sits on the counter and laughs at their attempts to bake one simple cake, singing the most random songs that he doesn’t even know the words to.

 

Shinwon’s heart is having a hard time, here, in Yanan’s arms, eyes threatening to close, sleep just around the corner, warm, listening to his favorite people giggle, knowing the rest aren’t far, just upstairs, and he could go and see them anytime he liked. Shinwon’s heart is having a hard time, being too full and happy, loved. Shinwon didn’t mind, as long as he had this. He didn’t need a working heart, he had 9 others.

 

Shinwon woke up feeling cold and hungry. He almost called Hongseok to make him breakfast before he remembered. They weren’t here. They weren’t his. It was only Shinwon and his lonely, too big heart.

 

Shinwon thought he would be used to this by now, waking up alone, but it didn’t get any easier, not now, or ever. Waking up was always just as crushing, draining. All Shinwon wanted to do was to sleep more, fall deeper.

 

\--

 

Wooseok knows barely anything about Shinwon. He only knows what Kino has told to him, gushing over him and making Yuto and Wooseok tease him endlessly. In reality, though, they only thought Kino was even cuter like this, crushing on someone tall once again. It made Kino glow a bit brighter, if possible.

 

Wooseok knows he has no reason to feel somehow empty, incomplete without Shinwon here, with the rest of them. Wooseok knows no one thinks he knows, understands, the look between Hui and Shinwon through the window on that night. Hui doesn’t even think Wooseok saw Shinwon at all. But Wooseok did. Does.

 

So that’s why he’s here now, outside a gray building rising to the sky, with a handwritten address between his fingers, the paper crumpled, wrinkled over all the twiddling his nervous hands have done with it. He had to go through some sneaky business to get it, too anxious to just ask Kino. Fortunately Hyojong is the person to go for in these kind of situations. There isn’t an information Hyojong couldn’t get his hands on.

 

Wooseok tries to calm down his running, beating heart, takes a deep breath like he’s about to dive under the blue, and starts climbing to the third floor. 

 

Slightly out of breath, he double, triple checks the address, and yes, this is the right door. So he knocks. And knocks. 

 

A middle aged woman comes to open the door, holding a towel around her. Wooseok suddenly realizes he didn’t even check the name on the door. Mumbling, blushing, he quickly apologizes and bows, asking “Does Ko Shinwon live here, by any chance?” 

 

The woman looks a bit pissed, “No, he doesn’t. I’ve lived here for the past 8 years, just me and my husband.” Wooseok bows again, apologizing some more, and the woman closes the door. Wooseok feels a headache coming on, his feet weighing him down all the way to the bottom of this swimming pool, to the rock bottom of the sea. 

 

Wooseok isn’t in the wrong place. He knows this, still he drags himself back to the first floor, checking all the names on the residence board, twice. No Ko Shinwons. Wooseok’s body weighs so much he can barely move his feet anymore.

 

By the front door Wooseok comes across an old lady who looks like she’s been living here her whole life. So Wooseok gathers all the last pieces of his strength, hope, and asks, “Do you happen to know a Ko Shinwon? I thought he lived here, third floor.” 

 

The lady cocks her head, thinking for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, features lighting up, “Ah yes, Shinwon-ah! He doesn’t live here anymore, hasn’t for a while. What a nice young man he was, though. Heard he finally got in, to that trainee program at what was it called, ah yes, Cube I think it was, and now, well,” the old lady laughs, eyes crescending to two half moons, “Now you can watch him sing in the tv. And does that boy sing well, such a pretty voice to match a handsome face. I’m proud of him, even though I’m just an old neighbor. He probably wouldn’t even recognize my face anymore,” the lady says, her smile turning a bit sad by the end, making her look older.

 

Wooseok’s only barely able to utter out a quiet “thank you,” head full of cotton and static, only hearing words from here and there towards the end, a sentence ringing through his brain. 

 

_ Shinwon doesn’t live here anymore. _

 

\--

 

Shinwon hopes and dreams and waits for a knock on his door, for someone to climb through his bedroom window again, for someone to send him a text or a Get Better Soon!-card or a goddamn letter pigeon with a message, anything. Shinwon waits for the red string to come and drag his ass to the café. Shinwon waits and hopes and dreams, the colors of his dreams slowly fading with every night, becoming less real and more like just what they are, dreams, fiction.

 

Shinwon waits and hopes and nothing. No one comes to him. He goes to his classes, cooks and burns his macaroni and cheese and ramen and eggs, his mind half-there, half-somewhere else. He gets hopeful while walking past a sewing store, yarns of every color of the rainbow on the shelves, and a bright red one as well, almost, almost, but nowhere near what he wants. The red balls of yarn stay still, not lifting their heads to greet him, to tease him, to bring them to him, nothing. 

 

Shinwon’s not needed. The 9 of them are fine on their own, full enough, loved and loving, and they don’t need him. Only Shinwon does. Even Hui, who wasn’t there when it was only Shinwon and his little red string and a café full of familiar faces, even Hui, who came along so much later, has a place among them now. Only Shinwon doesn’t. 

 

Shinwon needs them and knowing they’ll never come for him hurts, it hurts so, so much.

 

\--

 

“I didn’t find him.” 

 

Wooseok’s eyes are glued to the floor, voice quiet, speaking fast as if he’s scared he won’t finish the sentence if he doesn’t get it out right now, in one breath, “I went to his house and he doesn’t live there anymore, hasn’t for years,” Wooseok’s voice breaks at the last word. He finally lifts his head to look at Kino, his Kino, ever-smiling Kino, who now looks just as drained as he feels, just as worried as he is. “And he’s a famous singer. I googled it. Everyone knows him. How come we didn’t see  _ this _ ?” Wooseok fishes his phone out of his pocket and shows the screen to Kino, a video of a recent comeback stage playing. 

 

Kino opens and closes his mouth, nothing to say, no words worth speaking. He listens and watches this Shinwon glow and glimmer under all the lights. Kino reaches out to him, gracing the Shinwon on the screen with his index finger, the Shinwon who looks the same but all kinds of different at the same time. Kino feels a lump in his throat, frustrated, confused tears threatening to well in his eyes. 

 

“Oh, Wooseok-ah,” Kino stops the video and wraps Wooseok up in his arms, and even if Wooseok is much taller than him, sometimes his bones feel so fragile under his touch. Today was that kind of day. Kino closes his eyes and listens to the quiet, to Wooseok’s heart beating and him breathing, shaky at first, but slowly more steady. 

 

Kino listens and feels and when Wooseok’s heart has calmed down with his own, he says, “Let’s go to the café. Everything will look clearer after a cup of something warm and some sugar. Jinho will know what to feel. Hyojong will find out what’s going on. Hui will tell us the answers. Hongseok will make us a plan. Changgu will hold our hands and Yanan will be even more confused than we are. And Yuto, he will protect us from the bad, bad world.”

 

\--

 

“So model wasn’t so far from the truth, after all,” Hyojong’s the first to break the silence. 

 

“But I still don’t,-- just, how-- and none of the customers in this café seemed to know him either, and--” Changgu stumbles over his words, brows knitted, trying to make sense of the situation. They’re all sitting over a couple of tables again, the red string still asleep on the counter, getting lazier each morning.

 

“I climbed his window, I surely do know where he lives, his tiny, poor excuse of an apartment, and now you’re telling me he doesn’t live there, it makes no sense,” Kino adds, mindlessly playing with Wooseok’s fingers.

 

Everyone mumbles their agreements, quiet settling over them once more. After a few too many oppressive seconds, Hongseok sets his features into determination and starts, “So. Let’s make a list. Go over what we know and what we don’t. Everything looks much clearer in black and white.” 

 

Everyone breathes out a sigh of relief at something to do, at knowing the plan, at someone telling them it’s going to be alright. Hui gives Hongseok a thankful look. Hongseok smiles at him knowingly, nodding from across the table. No one reminds Hongseok that life isn’t a math problem. You can’t dot down the variables and put them into a calculator to get your answers. No one says half a word about that, because they all want to believe, just for a while longer.

 

And if it wasn’t for the ripples of conversation covering them under, if it wasn’t for the sidenotes and points being made, if it wasn’t for the sound of them thinking it over and over, from every angle, they might have heard it. But the radio being turned too low, the sounds of them trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle too loud, they didn’t hear it. They didn’t hear the song playing, soft and powerful at the same time, demanding to be heard. 

 

If it wasn’t for these facts, Hui might have listened a bit harder, might have recognised a melody clearly made by him, a beat so familiar he knew it by heart. Hyojong might have lifted up his head and heard himself rapping unfamiliar lyrics, about love and pain and the want to be free, right back at himself. Jinho might have felt that high note in his bones and heart, and Yanan might have been proud of his strong voice singing to him, confident for once. And Kino might have recognised a familiar voice in the middle of it all, Shinwon, a Shinwon with a place amongst them, a place well deserved, a place he was meant to be in. 10, no less or no more. Just like it was meant to be, whenever, wherever, whatever the situation.

 

But because of the sound of the conversation flowing around the room, the waves of the rivers and lakes and oceans hitting shore ever so steadily, they missed it. Just barely, but the song sweeped by, dashed over them and left, with no mark of it ever being there, inside this particular café.

 

\--

 

That night, Hui dreamed. He dreamed of seeing Shinwon again, Shinwon walking towards him on a sunny street, a smile on his face, skin glowing, so close to him. Hui wants to run to him, hold him so he can’t disappear from his life, never again. 

 

But quickening his steps, getting closer to Shinwon, Hui notices Shinwon’s hand, intertwined with someone else’s. A pretty girl walking next to him, whispering into his ear and making Shinwon laugh at her words. Hui stops, now only a few steps between them. People bump into his back, cursing at him and yelling at him to watch it.  

 

And Shinwon, he walks right past him, his eyes sweeping past Hui like he’s just a stranger on a street. Hui wants to call his name, wants to yell at him to wake up, but no voice comes out, his vocal chords lost, drowned somewhere into the endless oceans. So Hui reaches out, grabs Shinwon’s coat sleeve, which feels way too expensive for his Shinwon to be wearing, hanging onto him, forcing him to stop, to come back to Hui, to all of them. 

 

Shinwon scowls at him, jerking his coat from Hui’s weak hold and then he’s walking again, away from him, too far gone. Hui stands there staring at his retreating back and feeling like the ground might as well swallow him whole. He wouldn’t care anymore.

 

Hui wakes up shivering from cold, a cold that’s been tattooed into his bones, a cold that has made a home into his heart. 

 

_ I will come and find you, Ko Shinwon. And if you want us too, you can have us. We’ll give you everything and anything you need and no one will ever wake up cold again. If only you’ll have us. _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY OKAY !! Ah it was a ride and a half, so much angst jesus frick. shinwon needs all the love rn <3   
> (this might ve happened bc of the uhh--situation going on at cube atm, lets just hope itll turn out well)
> 
> As usual, send me ur thoughts, hate and love, its much appreciated <3 shinwon will be happy, soon, promise!


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

“What the fuck.”

 

It’s 1 AM and there’s a very real, somewhat alive looking Shinwon, panting and grunting, hanging from Kino’s bedroom window frame. I mean, that’s what you kinda deserve, for keeping your window open like that, a pure invitation for someone to climb in.

 

“Hyung! He’s here!” Kino whisper-shouts and shakes Hyojong by his shoulders, eyes wide like he’s seen a ghost. Kino’s still not quite convinced he isn’t seeing one, at this very moment. Who knows what Ko Shinwon is but he sure as hell ain’t your usual, every day guy.

 

Hyojong only grunts and tries to push Kino away with his hands and feet, eyes shut tight. All the while Yanan sleeps soundly right next to him. Kino’s not completely sure how did he even end up in their apartment. Kino’s quite used to it, though. Apparently they also regularly keep their front door open.

 

“Hi!” Shinwon beams, eyes shining so brightly Kino’s sure it can’t be natural, “I’ve come to collect you for that dinner I promised. I’m a man of my word, you know.” Shinwon proceeds to push himself up onto the window frame. He also underestimates the distance and dives stomach first onto the floor. Hyojong snuffles in his sleep and turns to face the other way, not bothered by the loud bang or Shinwon’s cursing and Kino’s giggling. Yanan grabs onto Hyojong’s arm in his sleep, willing him to protect Yanan from whatever is going on in the real world.

 

“Hang on, I’ll just put on some clothes,” Kino whispers. Not quite sure why, since  the other two wouldn’t wake even if the house was on fire. He also isn’t quite sure why is he so willing to follow this maybe-real-maybe-not Shinwon, who might or might not be a famous idol.

 

“Oh, don’t bother just for me,” Shinwon says and winks, reminding him of the words Kino said when it was a lot less complicated time of being. It makes Kino smile, comfortable, relieved. It’s all still the same. Shinwon’s still all the same. He’s awkwardly tall, clumsy and smooth at the same time. Shinwon.

 

About to climb out of his own window, as one does, Kino turns around to check he didn’t wake the two up. Hyojong has somehow hauled himself closer to Yanan’s tall sleeping body, impossibly close, holding onto him with his legs, and Yanan has his face turned to him, eyes closed peacefully and mouth slightly open, inhaling and exhaling in rhythm with Hyojong, a symbiose, the same air flowing through them, coming closer with every breath, until their noses almost touch. Kino sits there for a second, an overwhelming warm feeling pouring over him. Kino sits there, admiring, until he hears someone whisper his name from underneath him. So Kino turns to Shinwon, standing bare feet on the grass, and quietly slips out.

 

\--

 

The dinner’s nice.

 

Or more than nice, if Kino’s being completely honest. It’s not too fancy or stiff; it’s all awkward eye contact and constant nervous giggling, chatting about the rice and the future of robots as human-slaving machines, and shy handholding and red candles and whispered secrets. Shinwon never stops amazing Kino with how sweet and funny and dumb he is, all and everything. He thinks he’s in love. Although Kino says that every other day, this time it’s for real.

 

All this time Kino silently prays they won’t play anything too familiar but alien at the same time; prays they won’t play a song in which Shinwon’s voice might come over him like a waterfall and make him gasp for air. Hopes it could be just them, just Kino and Shinwon for a little while longer, in this reality they’ve created for themselves.

 

And they don’t. The songs are all nice and vaguely familiar, safe and secure. Kino breathes out a sigh of relief and doesn’t stop holding Shinwon’s hand even after they step out, neither willing to go home, giggling while skipping along the streets, neither saying good night’s or see you again’s. Maybe both feel like they might never see again, if they now let go.

 

So they don’t.

 

\--

 

“We should’ve never told them where we live,” Kino grunts, someone heavy weighing him down by laying on top of his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

 

“We didn’t. They just figured it out. Sneaky bastards,” Hyojong mumbles against his pillow.

 

“Hey, you love us! Plus, you literally live upstairs from the café, I don’t need to be a private investigator to figure that out,” Changgu wiggles around to get more comfy in the tight space on the bed. Kino’s and Hyojong’s kingsize bed might not be made to fit five grown men.

 

“Maybe you should stop leaving the front door open. Unless,” Hongseok stands in the kitchen doorway, a spatula in his hand, and dramatically lifts his eyebrows, “you actually want us here.” Hyojong scoffs at him, even making the effort of opening his eyes to squint at his face before closing them again.

 

Hongseok’s face knits in confusion, “Wait. Where’s Jinho gone? What did you do to him? Just cause he’s tiny you can’t just--”

 

“He’s here, don’t worry. We all know you admire him to hell and back but honey. Calm down for a sec,” Wooseok snickers from the couch, the top of Jinho’s head peeking out from between him and Yuto.

 

Hongseok can’t even deny it, the fond smile taking over his face as soon as he sees Jinho sandwiched between the two giants enough of a confirmation. He does adore him. Like he adores every single one of them, even Hyojong, who gives him a hard time with no exceptions.

 

Shinwon comes to his senses slowly, familiar voices pulling him from his sleep and he’s already preparing himself for the fall, the crash, the dream voices and touches fading and leaving him feeling like a fool, but. Minutes pass, Shinwon too afraid to open his eyes, too scared to even breath, Hongseok’s and Hyojong’s bickering ringing through the apartment along with Kino’s laugh, and Yuto’s deep rumble of a voice, and. Nothing happens.

 

Nothing, except for Kino’s fingers sliding into his hair, massaging his scalp gently, nothing except for Yanan’s long arms grabbing onto his arm and holding him hostage, hot breath ghosting over the bare skin on his shoulder. Nothing, except for everything. No crash, no fall. This time, they don’t disappear from him. Not anymore.

 

\--

 

Hui had promised himself to go find Shinwon but he hadn’t think Shinwon would come to him first.

 

Or not to Hui, exactly, but everyone else, actually. It almost twists his insides into an ugly knot, the sight of all the others laying on beds and sofas, laughing and joking and holding each other so easily, everyone but him, but then Hongseok notices him standing there, on the doorway, and someone asks how did he, too, know where they live, and someone answers with something about calling him there, and Hongseok comes to drag him into their little bubble. And Hui breathes normally again. Except--

 

“Sh..Shinwon?”

 

\--

 

Shinwon sits opposites of Hui, fidgeting nervously. Hui has been staring at him like he was a blue alien with a tail and all, for a good five minutes now. Shinwon almost turns to check his backside, just in case if he, in fact, has been growing a tail in secret.

 

“So. Ko Shinwon, right? I’m Hui, but somehow I think you already knew that,” Hui finally starts, coming back to the right time and place.

 

Shinwon comes to the realization this is their first time properly meeting, first time hearing Hui’s name, his voice. But somehow, his brain can recall late night conversations, whispered voices and quiet lullabies. Shinwon swallows down the overwhelming feeling of familiarity, feeling of sitting too far away from Hui, like he should be right next to him, “Yeah, I think...I did know that. Somehow.”

 

Shinwon shoves his hands into his pockets to keep them from reaching out to Hui. He finds the red string from the bottom of his left pocket, curled into a tiny ball. When Shinwon’s fingers come into contact with it, it startles awake and springs up, up into the electric air of the kitchen.

 

Shinwon follows the string’s dance around the room, throwing his head back and laughing, a loud, joyful laugh. After finding the courage, just from within himself, with no help from the string, after finding his way back to his boys, into their comfortable being, their bright existence, he had almost forgotten the red string. But here it was, in the kitchen, with them, and Hui’s eyes are on the string as well, a smile on his face, eyes curiously landing on Shinwon’s laughing face.

 

“I’ve been trying to think of a name for it, you know. Haven’t found a good one yet, though,” Hui says.

 

“I think _jabjong_ [ _*bastard_ ] is just good enough,” Shinwon smirks at him over the table and gets attacked by the red string, it slapping his arm with its tail. Shinwon and Hui laugh at its weak attempts. Although, if Shinwon’s honest, its hits do have some strength behind them and he’s quite glad when it stops and slips into the living room to bother the others. Others, who can’t even see or feel it.

 

Hui coughs and sets his face straight again, like he suddenly remembered why he’s here in the first place, “So you’re a student? What’s your major?”

 

So Shinwon tells him and they discuss about his artsy hipster school and Hui’s composing and the state of the world and the universe and the stars and Hui’s features melt into more relaxed ones, like some worry has been lifted from his shoulders, although Shinwon has no idea what that has to do with his studies. He’s just happy to have Hui happy. Hui happy and sitting half on top of his lap by the end of their conversation, because apparently Hui isn’t any better than the rest of them when it comes to being affectionate. Shinwon doesn’t mind, not one bit.

 

\--

 

They fall into a comfortable rhythm within the first week. It’s almost a little worrying. But they’re too happy to care.

 

It’s all early mornings filled with whining and having to drag Hyojong and Yanan out of bed, trying not to upset the sensitive Kino, and the old, responsible ones chasing Shinwon and Wooseok around, yelling at them to put their clothes on and _go to school, for fuck’s sake, you’re not five!_

 

It’s afternoons in the café, munching on carrot cakes and lattes and americanos, cozy, wrapped in each other’s sweaters and each other.

 

It’s late nights cramming into the same bed, giggling and fighting for space. The red string’s still there, but way less than before, it only appearing quietly every once in a while into their kitchen cupboards or to nap on the pillows of the sofa. At those times, Shinwon and Hui share meaningful looks and make jokes that get everyone else confused, making the two of them only laugh harder.

 

And the song they heard, video they saw by accident, the apartment Shinwon now barely even visits anymore, the one the old lady told Wooseok he hadn’t been living in for years, it all forgotten, sweeped under the fluffy pink carpet of their bedroom-living room.

 

Once, in the beginning of their living system, their chaos that needs no rules, Wooseok was anxious and wanted to lay the confusion, the frustration of the past to rest. So he fished out the familiar crumpled paper with Shinwon’s address and, at two AM, went there again, by himself. Just to be sure.

 

And it would've been the same as the last time, history repeating itself, without the old lady of course, she’s already sleeping by now, if it wasn’t for the red string. It lifted its head, hearing someone pulling their clothes on at such an odd time and heading for the door. The string got suspicious, worried their fragile little bubble would burst if something bad was to happen.

 

Feeling the need to protect them, Wooseok from hurting again and Shinwon from feeling lost again, it slipped out with Wooseok, quietly curling around his leg and making sure Wooseok knew which road to walk, which turns to take. Which lock to open. Although Wooseok did everything just like the last time, the red string helped him find the right door to knock on, just by taking his hand and gently guiding him.

 

And that’s how a sleepy, confused Shinwon found Wooseok outside his apartment. The huge smile growing onto Wooseok’s face upon seeing Shinwon though, the hug he crushed Shinwon into. Shinwon didn’t ask question, he was just happy to have him there. Happy to wake up next to him the next morning, Wooseok’s smile never subsiding, amazed by the fact that Shinwon truly was still there, by him. As if he had been worried Shinwon would just disappear into thin air. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t.

 

So Shinwon offered him his purple juice and toast with cheese and held his hand and kissed him goodbye when their ways parted, with a promise to see each other again, straight after their lectures. Shinwon watched as Wooseok turned the corner, the red string following after him, guarding over him. Just in case. Although Shinwon thinks the string just likes Wooseok.

 

How happy Wooseok was, when that promise was filled. Like he had been scared Shinwon would just disappear from his life.

 

“I’ll never leave you, you idiot,” Shinwon murmured to him, eyes circling around the table full of familiar faces. Never, Shinwon promised to all of them.

 

\--

 

If it wasn’t for Shinwon being sick on that particular December day, he might’ve missed it. He might’ve never known. But since he has sick, and forced to stay home after everyone else had gone, Shinwon saw it.

 

He was mindlessly watching Music Bank, half asleep when their faces filled the screen. A rookie group called Pentagon. They were singing this song, Gorilla, nothing special about it, really, but. There they were. Hui and Jinho, the main vocalists belting out pretty high notes, Kino and Hyojong the main dancers with fierce stage personas, Wooseok and Yuto with their voices deep enough to get lost in, Changgu and Yanan and Hongseok looking gorgeous, their voices flowing so beautifully with the rest of the group. Pentagon, the nine boys aiming for the top.

 

Shinwon’s heart missed a beat and then started beating twice as hard, his eyes staring at the screen, unblinkingly. He felt like the ground under his feet had opened up to swallow him whole. Shinwon suddenly felt lonelier than ever before. But there was a tap on his shoulder, the red string trying to comfort him. He smiles at it, but it’s a poor attempt, his eyes filling with tears and his nose red and runny, heart clenched into a hitch.

 

As the others come home, one by one, Shinwon jumps up to greet each and every one like they’d come back from war, still fighting back his tears, with poor success.

 

And his boys, they held him tighter, understanding even when they didn’t know why was he crying, making him chocolate milkshake and feeding him cherries and never, never letting go.

 

And that’s all Shinwon really needs. Whenever, wherever, whatever, as long as it was he and his boys, the world could crumble around them for all he cared. As long as in this reality, at least, they had each other.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANDD HERE WE ARE!! it's done. really, for real. tbh this isn't that long but for me it is, the longest one i've ever written. and thats all thanks to every single one of you who commented nice things, thank u !!
> 
> ah im so soft over shinwon being loved by his boys uwu :') i miss them.
> 
> (will we ever know how did hyojong get into hui's computer files that one time? nope.)

**Author's Note:**

> ps my twitter is @kidekino if you wanna follow me there andd yeah!!


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